Play My Heart
by kadartyy
Summary: Mista is smitten with Giorno (and his piano playing), Giorno adjusts to Italian life (X posted to AO3)
1. Summertime Streetfights

It's been a long summer, maybe the longest one in Mista's life. Maybe. No, wait, cancel that. Now that he was properly thinking about it, the worst was when he was eleven. That summer was bad.

He had no cash or family vacations lined up, hadn't gotten a phone yet, not a single available friend, and read through all his magazines at least ten times (speeding through the fourth in record time); now that summer was three months of total boredom delivered straight from hell.

But this one's also been pretty bad as far as Mista's concerned.

There's a week left before senior year starts and he's gotten to the point of just waiting outside the local cinema for somebody to talk smack about Clint Eastwood, so he can beat them up and take their money for dinner. Mista used to do it once a month for some extra spending cash during the school year, but it's become a daily thing over the course of the summer.

"You didn't like the movie?"

"Mmmm, the plot was fine, you know? It's just that Clint's acting was so bad there, I couldn't get immers- "

Smack. Then another smack immediately after the first. The man tried to fight back, but Mista had the element of surprise and knocked him out cold by the seventh punch. His (probably) girlfriend ran back into the cinema while Mista took the cash from his wallet. Two ten-dollar bills and two twenties popped out.

Four bills total.

Well, Mista thinks, this isn't gonna cut it. Throwing the wallet onto the unconscious man, one ten-dollar bill messily put back inside, Mista decides it's time to take his leave and head for dinner before security comes. He checks his watch.

_6:21pm, not bad. Shouldn't be too busy._

Mista's nicest friend, Bucciarati, had told him of a restaurant that he _'should definitely try'_ before he'd started on an entire-summer-devoted vacation touring Europe with his dad; citing it as a much-needed break and bonding time for them.

Mista had definitely been listening to everything, but had forgot the restaurant's address within a day or so of their parting. Yesterday, however, he finally bit the bullet and texted Bucciarati, who quickly replied to give him the restaurant name and address with a simple _'I hope you enjoy it! :)'_

A casual fifteen-minute walk later, enjoying the warm sun and slight breeze, Mista found himself outside the doors of 'Trattoria Trussardi.' While the location's environment itself wasn't too inviting, a horribly tan and cracked sidewalk with weeds taking root, the building itself looked clean enough to not deter Mista from strolling in.

The only guests consisted of an older couple already sitting at a booth and eating, while a man in a chef's uniform paused from wiping another booth to greet him,

"Welcome, signore, please sit anywhere you'd like."

"Sure." Mista replied while giving a slight nod as he found a table a few spots away from the couple, facing the kitchen. He took note of the pleasantly dim light and cool temperature as the chef began to approach him, water pitcher in hand.

Mista allowed the man to turn over his cup and fill it in silence while he glanced at his nametag,

"Hello, I'm Tonio, and this is my restaurant. It'll be a pleasure to serve you today." As Tonio spoke, he just looked at Mista, intensely eyeballing his entire form.

His face reminded Mista of a person suffering from severe constipation.

"Hey, uh-" Mista began after a few awkward seconds, pausing when Tonio's face returned to calm normalcy with a quiet sigh.

"Okay."

"…Okay?"

"I'll be back with your order shortly, signore." Tonio calmly deadpanned, and began walking to the kitchen.

"But I didn't get a menu, much less even order yet!" Mista shouted back in utter confusion.

"Oh, no, no, there aren't any menus here. I know exactly what you need and pick it out just for you." With that, Tonio took advantage of Mista's stunned silence and retreated to begin cooking.

_What the fuck?_ Mista is now convinced that Bucciarati is pulling some kind of prank on him. It doesn't sound like him, but this is too bizarre. There are no cameras to be found when Mista's eyes scan the ceiling; but he does note that lack of music. Maybe on purpose, to hear his reactions better?

After a few minutes of annoyed confusion, Mista decides that it doesn't really matter; as long as he can eat something decent, whatever it is that comes out. If he doesn't like it, he can just get angry and leave without paying.

With that settled, Mista _does_ send out a quick, and slightly cryptic, text to Bucciarati (_'hey this place is kinda weird n I hope im not getting poisoned? Btw hope ur having fun on the vacay u deserve it'_) while he waits, and takes a sip of his water and-

Oh. Oh wow. That's some… that's some really good water? Mista instantly decides it's the best damn water he's ever had. Not a minute passes and his water is now in dire need of a refill. He vaguely notices the couple giggling (as quietly as they can manage) while they watch him, but it doesn't bother him too much because he's too preoccupied with the happy tears spilling down his tan cheeks.

Is water suppose to do that? Whatever. It's fine. His eyes feel so much clearer. Maybe he should cry more often.

Mista begins thinking about the possible benefits and restrictions of having a daily cry (which he would definitely be asking his friends about once they all meet up again), and a short while later the chef returns with a bowl of… ribollita? He rarely eats that but, hey, if the water's already making him cry, it's worth trying the rest.

Tonio speaks as he refills his cup, "Enjoy, I believe it will be perfect for you."

Mista can only let out a gurgling hum in reply as he drinks the water anew. Tonio smiles warmly and promptly disappears, Mista presumes to chat with the elder couple, he can't really hear anything over the lovely seashore symphony playing in his brain.

A few minutes pass and it's time to try that ribollita. Mista attempts to get at least a little bit of every ingredient he can onto the spoon, the combined _fresh and inviting_ smell is overloading his nose, and he's drooling already inside his mouth. He swallows to make room and takes his first bite and the _flavor_ hits him.

The music's definitely back and better than before. The taste of the holy mixture can only be described in a long, drawn out metaphor that Mista's lost on trying to explain. It's hearty, nutty, slightly sweet, and-_ wait, is that a piano?_

Mista pauses when the realization hits him that the music isn't coming from his foodgasm, there's an honest to god piano playing in the restaurant. _When the fuck did that start?_ He looks around and sees that, yup, there's a whole ass grand piano on an elevated section of the restaurant.

How the ever-loving fuck did he miss that?

The piano faces away from Mista, so he can't really see who's playing it, only their back, but_ they're good_.

The notes being hit are soft, calming, and bring on a sense of melancholy. It's perfect for a stress-free sit-down dinner like this. Mista notices that the elderly couple has long finished their meals but haven't made a move to leave yet, instead opting to turn their bodies to watch the performance with quiet whispers.

_"Oh honey, I'm so glad that kid's back, I was scared he was just a visitor."_

_"Me too, his music is always nice and he's always so polite. I hope Tonio's paying him at least."_

Their conversation fades as Mista looks, really looks, at the pianist's relaxed back. Apparently, he's a guy, and he does look young; with shiny blond hair in a braid, wearing some kind of a blue suit with dark triangles on the shirt's back. His pale hands coming in and out of Mista's view as he gracefully moves along the keys.

The guy, as far as Mista can tell, makes no mistakes and keeps up a steady pace. He doesn't really listen to piano music often- but it's actually very peaceful.

Maybe Mista should take up an instrument? He won't be this good immediately, but when he hears some good music being played, he always feels inspired to pick something up. After one song ends and another begins, Tonio coming to refill his water, Mista realizes that he's spaced out and needs to finish that ribollita before it gets cold and sad.

The mixture of a wonderful live piano and delicious meal rolled into one has Mista slowing down his chewing akin a sloth's level to enjoy it all.

Roughly twenty minutes pass in this fashion before the fourth (or fifth? Hopefully.) song ends, with nothing coming after it. Mista's practically done, hoping what money he does have is enough- does Tonio charge for the live music? How much was the food? Good questions. He has no idea. It was definitely good enough to pay, but the price better be reasonable.

As Mista thinks, the pianist passes by his table, shoes elegantly clicking on the hardwood floor, to stop at the kitchen door just as Tonio comes out, a to-go bag in hand.

"Giorno! That was lovely, thank you again for coming by, I love how your playing brightens the place… are you sure you don't want to eat here?"

The boy, Giorno, shakes his head and a soft, smooth voice replies, "Thank you very much, but I have to say no. My father doesn't like me staying out too long and gets worried, and I also prefer to eat dinner while I study."

"Ahhh," Tonio nods while handing Giorno the bag, "I understand. My mother also worried about me staying out late when I was young. At the time I honestly thought it was an annoyance, but with the way the streets are looking after dark, I can't blame her now."

Mista sees Giorno's free hand move to cradle his own waist before answering, quieter, where Mista needs to strain his ears to hear, "You're right. It's just despicable, something definitely needs to be done."

"We can only hope... I've already told most of my regulars, but I'm actually going to move and relocate my restaurant about half a year from now. Maybe when things get better I can visit home often."

"Ah, where are you planning on moving to, Mr. Tonio?"

"It's a small town in Japan, Morioh. After doing some research, I found myself drawn there. I've been practicing Japanese for almost a year now, and I think it's about time."

"Your restaurant and presence will be missed here for sure, this is the best food I've eaten since I moved here."

A genuine smile crosses Tonio's face, "Thank you so much, be safe getting home."

Mista quickly looks down to his empty bowl before the blond can turn to catch him staring creepily at them, and Tonio cashes out the elderly couple. Mista chances a glance at the boy as he passes, and instantly notes that Giorno is just as pretty as his piano playing.

Big, blue eyes that seductively curl upwards at the edges, long eyelashes, proportional lips, and cheeks sculpted by the Greek gods. Calm, self-assured expression painting his face. His most notable feature, however, is three large curls above his forehead. They remind Mista of a pinup model, and pastries, and he's internally grateful there's only three.

In a trance, Mista quickly pays (_only 15 dollars- score!_) and hurries outside into the dark to look for the pretty blond. He's not sure what he will, or wants to, say, but he knows it'll bother him for awhile if he doesn't try to do something.

He finds Giorno standing at a bus stop just down the street with said bus approaching the stop in, what Mista feels like is, slow motion. He can also feel his face heat up like a furnace at whatever he's about to do, and it's not even cold out.

Mista briskly heads over and stops next to Giorno, at what he hopes is a safe distance, breath uneven from how much he wants to puke. Giorno only moves his light blue eyes to glance at Mista, quickly, then returns to staring ahead as the bus pulls closer. Mista takes a deep breath to steady his nerves,

"Hey, you. You were playing the piano at Tonio's right?" Mista hoped that came out at least half as confident as he heard it. He doubts it.

Giorno had slightly jumped in surprise from the words, which has Mista ready to just die, but mercifully turns to him with a, "Yes?"

The bus lets out a creak and 'shhhhhhh' as the doors open. Before Mista can stop himself,

"It was the most beautiful thing I've ever heard in my life."

They both still in surprise, Giorno's mouth parting, before he hurriedly replies, "Thanks." And gets on the bus without another word. Mista feels like his heart's going to pop out as he watches the doors close, bus driving away.

Ten seconds later, Mista realizes, _'That was my bus, too.'_ and begins his walk home.


	2. Hello

_"It was the most beautiful thing I've ever heard in my life."_

Mista felt the words repeat in his head like a broken record, slowly becoming higher pitched in a mockingly sarcastic tone.

The long walk had him thinking about the evening- the amazing dinner, the pretty blond's lovely music, the pretty blond's pretty face and polite words. It felt like a fever dream. He had fallen asleep from exhaustion the second he got home, unable to even strip off his clothes, dreaming about that confident back with soft piano music in the background.

Now, after waking up and remembering exactly what he said (and Giorno's surprised, probably put-off, face), Mista could only bang his head against the shower wall in embarrassment.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid. How cheesy was that? I even ran after him the second he was alone. He probably thinks I'm pathetic at best, creepy stalker material at worst, I bet the restraining order's already pending…_

His past flirting encounters had never been this cringey before, which (had) exclusively consisted of casually calling out to women on the street as they passed.

Did those usually end well? Not really. Sometimes their replies made him a bit sad, and also made him cry in the shower, but he had never flirted with something that sounded like a line out of a Hallmark movie.

Even though it was true.

Mista let himself soak in self-pity for an hour, the steady head-banging and hot water making him delirious, before he could finally let the incident go (mentally) and got out to get dressed.

Bucciarati had apparently texted him back early in the morning with an _'I apologize for the late reply, Mista, I was tired from cheese-making and turned in early for bed. I don't think Tonio would do that, and hope all went well? He's always been good to me. And, yes, my dad and I have had a great time! I'll be sure to show you guys pictures when we all meet up in a couple days!'_

In a couple days? ….? Maybe he should check the group chat? Mista could feel his mood brighten as he gave out a quick reply in confirmation before switching to their friendly group chat, reading up on what he missed while having a cheese-and-cracker breakfast.

* * *

**1:12 AM**

**[sky high nara]:** any1 wanna take over my lease n room w/ fugo? considering ALL offers!

**1:20 AM**

**[XxGoth GodxX]:** Trouble in paradise already? It's only been three months.

**[XxGoth GodxX]:** Also, what are you two even doing up now and arguing?

**[sky high nara]:** u mean it's ALRDY been 3 months!1 n he somehow found out a lil bit ago that I havent finished my summer hw yet n got rlly mad.

**[sky high nara]:** like, he got 'hoes mad' mad. theres a full six days left to finish so idk why hes stressing tbh maybe his thongs on 2 tight?

**[Biggest Brain 152]:** Narancia, are you messing with me here? You know I'm literally right next door, awake, getting live notifications that you're talking shit about me, right?

**[sky high nara]:** ….

**[Biggest Brain 152]:** I bet you can even hear my phone beeping! I'm coming over so you can say it to my face, shit-for-brains.

**[sky high nara]:** u rlly dont gotta, its nap time fugo zzzzzz

**[XxGoth GodxX]:** Well, night.

**6:01 AM**

**[Bomb Mom]:** Don't fight in the group chat please :) Also, I'm coming back tomorrow. Do you guys want to get lunch together in two days to meet & catch up? I want to treat everybody to that wonderful restaurant I found & mentioned to you all before I left xxxx

**[XxGoth GodxX]:** That's what I keep telling them. I'm definitely coming, this will be a good chance to go over our senior year plans XOXOXO

**[Bomb Mom]:** Thank you, Abbacchio! :D sky_high_nara Biggest_Brain_152 seven_pistols

**9:17 AM**

**[Biggest Brain 152]:** I'm sorry, Buc, we both properly apologized in person last night. He agreed to start/finish it today, whenever he wakes up. Lunch sounds great!

**11:43 AM**

**[sky high nara]:** ya im 1000% in mom but can we do it like sometime after two? My sleep schdule is all kinds of f'd up rn

**1:30 PM**

**[seven pistols]:** good morning! Im in too but can we go shopping after? I need some new shoes and i guess some school supplies…

* * *

It usually takes some time before somebody replies to a message, even if they all look at it, so Mista settles on scrolling through memes on Facebook while brainstorming what he should do for the rest of the day.

* * *

Mista is thirty minutes, nineteen laugh reacts, and six angry reacts in when he realizes that he could be doing something else. That something being looking for _Giorno's_ Facebook.

Is it somewhat pathetic, considering he hadn't even properly gotten Giorno's name himself? Yea, kinda. Is that gonna stop him?

_Nah,_ Mista rationalizes to himself,_ As long as I don't send a friend request, it won't hurt._

He doesn't know Giorno's last name, but there can't be too many Giorno's- it's the first time Mista's heard it as a name, after all. Mista nervously types the name in, goes to people, and cries.

There are four Giorno's on Facebook.

Two of them have selfies as their profile pictures, who are decidedly brunette and not Giorno, and the other two have landscape photo profile pictures. It doesn't count as four if he only has to look at two, right? Yeah. It doesn't.

Mista goes through uploaded (and tagged) photos on both accounts, only to be hit with a wave of disappointment. Neither of them are handsome blond Giorno's either.

_Did I hear his name wrong? Or does this guy just not have a Facebook account?_

Letting out a sigh as he lays across the couch, Mista weighs his options. Since he hasn't really figured out what to do for dinner, he could always go to Tonio's restaurant and hope to see him? He still had enough money left over from the man he beat up yesterday to cover the cost.

However, if Giorno wasn't there, what would he do? Go throw away money every night for a fancy dinner on the off-chance the hot piano angel would stop by to throw some sick keys down? Mista could feel his face grimace at the thought.

_One more time? It'll all work out. If it's meant to be then he'll be there! If not… that's just not what lady luck has in store for me!(?)_

Fixed on that decision, Mista easily killed a few hours on his phone until dinnertime, playing Candy Crush, Zombie Shootout, and watching a nature documentary.

However, ten minutes before he should be leaving to catch the bus, he found himself manically doing some last-minute self-grooming; consisting of deodorant, extra tooth brushing, flossing, and nail clipping.

He took longer than expected and needed to run to catch the bus, just barely making it. The bus only had a few people at a time, so Mista easily managed to snag a seat on one of the comfortable leather spots, immediately looking around in case the blond was there- no such luck.

Maybe he would show up halfway through his dinner and blow Mista's mind again? If not, at least he would have a fantastic dinner. Tonio might give him something different from the ribollita today too, considering his crazy no-menu idea. He was going to miss this place when Tonio moved.

Walking into the doors of Trattoria Trussardi blessed Mista with a sight he never thought he would see so soon.

_Giorno's here!_

There he was in all his glory, standing in front of the piano, back to Mista as hands slowly went through the keys. Tonio was probably in the back chopping ingredients up or something, not a single customer in sight. Mista felt his body take in a deep breath as his stomach and face heated.

Was this fate?

The same nervousness he felt when he had first talked to Giorno returned, sweat sticking to his face despite the cold air. God, he really wanted to puke again. But, bowel movements aside, fate definitely gave him this chance, it would be stupid to give up now.

Slowly, slowly (was time slowing down again?), Mista makes his way over as quietly as he can to allow himself a few extra seconds of time to calm the fuck down; Giorno's hand reaching the higher-pitched keys, unintentionally exuding a more upbeat vibe in the air.

Mista stops just short of the elevated piano section, it's time to let that breath out,

"Hey," Giorno's hand twitches and stalls, "You were the guy from yesterday, huh? I can't believe we're meeting again like this."

As Mista talks, Giorno steps to turn his body towards him, eyebrows slightly raised.

"Hello," Giorno pauses briefly to fully look at Mista (which has the latter visibly gulp) before maintaining eye contact as he continues,

"I feel the same way. Do you come here often?"

"N-no, yesterday was my first time… the food's really good though, even though there's no menu, so I came back." _Not just the food._

Giorno puts his hands in his pant pockets while a pleased smile graces his angelic face, "I see. I knew I hadn't met you yet... Did you move here recently?"

This was going better than Mista even dreamed it could, and his nervousness evaporates into a happy, goofy smile back.

"No, I grew up here, just never knew this place even existed until my friend told me to try it. Do you live here? I don't think I've seen you around before in general."

He would _definitely_ remember if he had.

"...You're right. I moved here at the beginning of the summer with my dad for his job."

"Really?! Where'd'ya move from?"

"Britain."

Mista's eyes widen. Don't they speak English in Britain? How is he so good at Italian? Did he practice?

Mista's eyes must be twinkling, he wants to know everything.

"Your Italian is amazing, how did you get so good?"

"Ah, my father is Italian, so he's been teaching me since I was little."

"That makes sense. You're really fluent."

"Thank you very much, I'm lucky that the adjustment was quite easy."

They both pause for a second; Mista lets out a hum in reply and bites his lip, it's now or never.

"What's your name?"

Giorno lets a small amused huff out of his nostrils, "Giorno Joestar... and you would be?"

Mista can feel his body slightly swaying side-to-side in a buzzed excitement.

"Guido Mista, everybody calls me Mista, though."

Giorno gives a small, respectful head bow, "It's very nice to meet you, then, Mista."

"It's all mine... would it be too much, too fast, if I asked you to have dinner here with me, that is, if you haven't eaten already?"

"... No, I'd like that very much, Mista."


	3. Nice to Meet You

Mista and Giorno decide on sitting across from each other in a booth, much to Tonio's silent surprise once he emerges, and he then retreats to cook their meals.

Within the first ten minutes, Mista learns Giorno loves nature (both the living and non-living, but definitely has a soft spot for plants and fish), is studying to become a surgeon, his single father is a lawyer, and he prefers living in Italy to Britain. Mista also finds himself answering many of Giorno's questions in turn.

Mista folds him arms on the table as he asks, "So, did you ever visit Italy before moving here?"

Giorno's eyes glance away in thought momentarily before he answers, "Yes. My father would bring me here every summer for roughly a month, I'm pretty sure he was somewhat aware that we would eventually move here."

"Would you guys always visit Naples or just, like, one spot?"

"We always stayed at one of the main cities every vacation, say Venice one year and Rome the next and toured there... have you been outside of Italy?"

"I don't think so?" Mista felt one eyebrow furrow, "Wait, our class did go to France for a week in the 7th grade, but they didn't let us do anything fun. The homework over it sucked a complete ape's ass, too. Totally not a fun vacation."

Mista's heart was soaring as he caught sight of Giorno's smile brightening in a silent laugh before he replies, "What grade will you be going into this year, Mista?"

"This is my last year! I'm finally gonna be a senior-" Pausing, Mista could feel himself panic,

_How old is this guy, anyway? He doesn't look **very** young, but he does look young. What if I've been flirting with a 14-year-old or something?_

"Hey, uh, Giorno?"

"…Yes?"

"What grade are you in?"

"Oh, I'm going into this year as a junior, but the school told me last month when I registered that if I did some extra work over the next summer, I would be able to graduate then."

_That's… not too bad. Around 16 or 17._ "What school is that?"

"W.A. Zeppeli High. Do you happen to go there, too?"

Mista could cry, fate could be so cruel. Their high schools were within miles of each other, yet so far, and Giorno's was a private school to boot.

He felt the images he'd just conjured up- of them eating lunch together, working as lab partners, skipping class together, walking to and from school together, doing the same homework together- all of them drift away.

"No… I go to Speedwagon High School, it's only about three or so miles from yours."

Giorno's face flickered in disappointment before returning to neutrality, "I see, that's too bad-"

Before he could continue, Tonio emerges from the kitchen, huge platter in hand. For Giorno, a very good-looking bowl of beef-broth tortellini and, for Mista, risotto that smelled like it was to die for.

"Please enjoy, both of you."

"Thank you, Tonio, we will."

"Thanks, man. Smells great."

As they ate their decadent dinners, Mista found himself thinking about his next move. He really likes Giorno. He's beautiful, sweet, smart, speaks very politely, and was even responding positively to Mista's attention. Even if Mista never specified this as an impromptu date when he'd asked Giorno to eat together, it was hopefully clear to them both that that was exactly what it ended up becoming.

Mista hates to plan too far and will let things come as they do, but he could easily see himself with Giorno for the long haul if he plays his cards right with him.

He subtly peeps over at Giorno to find that the way he eats is like royalty, elegant and with slow precision. However, Giorno eventually catches his stare, and his face flashes in surprise in response to Mista's darkening blush.

Shortly afterwards, Mista tries to pay, but Giorno politely (and stubbornly) insists, until Mista finally relents. They walk to the bus stop together as Mista excitedly talks about a new movie, before Giorno asks,

"Which bus do you take home?"

"The 132B."

"Is that correct? That's the bus I take as well."

"Yea, of course, I know my bus." After replying, Mista realizes he fucked up.

"That's odd, I don't mean to pry, but why didn't you take the bus yesterday?"

"Well, that's…" Mista feels sweat on his forehead, luckily hidden by his hat, "You aren't gonna make fun of me, right?"

Giorno's expressive eyes are already telling him 'no' before the question fully leaves his mouth, "Of course not."

Mista finds himself being painfully honest, "After I said, well, you know, that yesterday, I got embarrassed and forgot to get on, so I walked home."

Giorno doesn't laugh or make fun of him, but he _does_ let another cute, amused huff out of his nose, taking a moment before he replies, "I had thought you were going to get on, and we could maybe, if you would have liked, sat together… I was honestly quite surprised when you didn't get on."

Was there time to go back and punch his past self? Also, it's night now, but how hot is it outside? His face and brain are going to overheat one of these days.

"I-I guess we can sit together now? Or did I miss my chance to be your seat buddy?" Forget past self, how about a punch to now-Mista? Why are all these lame Hallmark-worthy lines escaping him?

At that one, Giorno does let out his first actual laugh. It's small, more of a giggle, but it's something.

"That sounds good to me." As Giorno replies, the bus comes into view over the horizon.

Mista thinks he should reply, but his brain's honestly a bit overheated, so he finally settles on a dumb sounding "Good." right as the bus doors open.

Ever the gentleman, Mista gives Giorno the best leather seat, happily settling in beside him. Giorno's stop is two after Mista's, so they settle on talking about their favorite Netflix series as the bus carries on.

"Hey, Mista?"

"Yea?"

Giorno's face looks unsure before he replies, almost nervously, "This was nice. I've really enjoyed… this."

Mista feels like Giorno just cleverly asked him to_ please do something now if you're going to before you leave_, and that's all the push he needs before he pivots his body towards Giorno with a,

"Me too." Deep breath, "Giorno, I like you. I really want to see you again. Can I have your number?"

Giorno turns to grab his phone, "Of course."

* * *

When Mista gets back to his apartment, he promptly strips to his underwear and collapses on his bed; rolling around in joy as happy curses slip from his lips.

Life is usually good, but it's never gone this well. He wants to tell the world. To brag. The most beautiful person Mista has ever seen is interested in him! They vibed so well! Could life get better? No.

Mista decides he wants to brag in the group chat, and leans to grab his phone, ignoring the messages everybody else has sent.

* * *

**11:07 PM**

**[seven pistols]:** yall won't believe this, but i was just on a date with the most gorgeous and amazing guy ever, he just moved here and he even gave me his number!

**[seven pistols]:** smart, so so pretty, golden blond hair with sky blue eyes

**11:13 PM**

**[XxGoth GodxX]:** This sure came out of nowhere Mista. You didn't even mention you had a date here.

**[seven pistols]:** ya it was really out of the blue! we were already a restuarant cuz he plays some sick piano and it was like a "well we're already here" kinda thing

**[XxGoth GodxX]:** Hmmm, okay.

**[sky high nara]:** ur gay?/ no1 told me wtf? u guys all succ lol how long have u been gay

**[Biggest Brain 152]:** I'm pretty sure this just means he's bisexual, Narancia. Abba is right though, it did come out of nowhere. But congratulations. Hope he doesn't leave you on read.

**[sky high nara]:** w/e im still pissed no1 told me anything

**[seven pistols]:** yee you're right fugo & it's a new thing, nara. thanks yall ilu night

* * *

Just before he fell asleep, he felt his phone vibrate.

* * *

** [Giorno Jstar]:** Hello, I apologize for the late reply, I got caught up with something once I got home. I did and hope you got home okay, as well :)

**[Guido Mista]:** no, no, you're fine! I was actually wondering if you'd want to go out on Friday if you aren't busy?

**[Giorno Jstar]:** I'd love to. I'm going to sleep now, but can I leave all the details up to you?

**[Guido Mista]:** yea yea I got it u can leave it up to me, night giornoooo

**[Giorno Jstar]:** Sleep tight, Mista

* * *

With that, Mista slept.

* * *

** 6:07 AM**

**[Bomb Mom]:** Hey, Mista, everybody, I just saw all the messages. Congratulations. By chance, Mista, would you happen to be talking about Giorno Joestar? The description sounds just like him, so I was curious.


	4. Tone is Hard to Read in Texting

**6:07 AM**

**[Bomb Mom]:** Hey, Mista, everybody, I just saw all the messages. Congratulations. By chance, Mista, would you happen to be talking about Giorno Joestar? The description sounds just like him, so I was curious.

**[XxGoth GodxX]:** … You can guess exactly who is it just by that lovestruck description, Bucciarati?

**[Bomb Mom]:** Well, the blond hair and blue eyes part is pretty vague- but I know Giorno plays the piano, very well too, & specifically enjoys playing at that restaurant, if Mista is referring to Trattoria Trussardi x

**[XxGoth GodxX]:** Hmm, ok.

**[XxGoth GodxX]:** You're coming back today, right?

**[Bomb Mom]:** Yes! The trip was splendid, but I've missed Naples XOXO

**[XxGoth GodxX]:** What time are ya coming in? I'll come greet you and we can have a mini welcome back party; the others can come too, if it's late enough for the slackers to be up.

**[Bomb Mom]:** That would be lovely! We're arriving back on The Pier a little after 8, would that be too early? You can always come by the house later instead :D

**[XxGoth GodxX]:** No, that's perfect, but I can already tell none of the others will make it. I'll just have to get showered really quick. I'll call you when I get there to work out a meeting place. XXX

**[Bomb Mom]:** Thank you, Abbacchio, I really appreciate it! XXX

**9:45 AM**

**[Biggest Brain 152]:** Shit

**[Biggest Brain 152]:** Good morning. Is it too late to stop by?

**9:57 AM**

**[XxGoth GodxX]:** No you're good. We're at Bucciarati's and just pulled Uno out if you wanna wake narancia up and head over. Call mista too while you're at it, his sleep schedule is the most messed up out of all of us. Probably get all pissed if we all hung out without him anyway.

**[Biggest Brain 152]:** Yea, sure. I bet ten cents he put his phone on silent though, and I'm really not going all the way over to his place for a personal wake up call.

**[XxGoth GodxX]:** As long as you try calling him he can't say anything about us not caring.

**[Biggest Brain 152]:** Yea, see you guys in a bit.

* * *

Mista wakes up (at his leisure) to fourteen missed calls, and groans; two are from Fugo, and twelve from Narancia. Narancia had also, in his violent wake, left four text messages for Mista.

* * *

**[dumbass bff]:** hey

**[dumbass bff]:** hey

**[dumbass bff]:** when u comin over? i need my bacc-up buddy here

**[dumbass bff]:** hey

* * *

_Fucking jerk. At least send another message._ Eye twitching in annoyance, Mista switched to the group chat.

* * *

** 1:15 PM**

**[seven pistols]:** hey i woke up earlier than yesterday! Nice. Yall still hanging out?

**1:23 PM**

**[sky high nara]:** nah fug-ly-o blew his fking top off at monopoly n i asn't gonna stan that bs but buc made us leave at like 1

**[Biggest Brain 152]:** You were freaking cheating! And not very well either! You literally held up the money you hid under the table and started counting it!

**[sky high nara]:** but u STABBED me! overeact much

**[Biggest Brain 152]:** Because you're dumb as fuck!

**[Bomb Mom]:** Calm down, what's done is done. Just take a bit to calm down please x

* * *

As the chat went on, Mista read over the unread messages. Is Bucciarati good friends with Giorno? He really doesn't want to type everything out, and Bucciarati isn't one of those people who will literally die if their phone rings, so…

* * *

** 1:40 PM**

**[seven pistols]:** yo sorry to interrupt but is it cool if I call u, bucc?

* * *

Mista's phone immediately began vibrating with a call from Bucciarati. That was fast.

"Hey Bucciarati!" Mista began cheerfully.

Bucciarati's calm tone pulsed through the phone, "Hello, Mista, sorry you missed hanging out, but what's up?"

"Nah, it's fine, I was really tired anyways. But you were right, it is Giorno. You know him?"

Mista could hear Bucciarati hum in approval, "Yes, I knew it sounded like him. How are you guys getting on?"

"He's really nice even though I keep embarrassing myself in front of him, and we get along well. I'm pretty sure he's interested in me, too. We even have a date on Friday!"

"That's only two days away... I'm glad you've managed to find somebody you like. It must be hard for him to move to a new place so late in life, so I'm happy you met and welcomed him. I felt bad about leaving him right after we'd met."

Mista paused, "How did you manage to start talking to Giorno, anyway?"

"A few days before I left, I went to Tonio's for the first time, and he was playing the piano. I think it was his first time there, too, because Tonio was asking him questions about where he had moved from and such during a break."

Mista gave a noise of approval so Bucciarati knew he was listening,

"I recognized the song he was playing, it was the… 1st, I'm pretty sure, Movement of Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata. So, after Tonio left to cook, I went to talk to him about it."

It was very Bucciarati of him to know about classical piano songs.

"Giorno was still adapting to primary speaking Italian, but he kept up while we talked about Britain and Italy, we ended up having lunch together. He was fun to talk to."

_Giorno had issues with Italian? Huh._ "Oh, he's basically fluent with Italian now, I really thought he was native at it."

Bucciarati chuckled, "That's fair. It has been three months, after all."

It's rare for Bucciarati to stray from their group to make friends. He seems to think highly of Giorno, too. They also seem to have similar interests and mesh well. They dressed similar too. Mista felt a twinge of unwarranted envy. After a few moments, Mista shook it off to ask,

"Do you want me to give him your number? It sounds like he'd probably want to hear from you."

"…Are you sure, Mista?"

"Yeah!"

"Thank you, I really had regretted not exchanging numbers with him. Please tell him there's no pressure."

"Ayyyy anything for you, Bucciarati. So, tell me about that Monopoly game…"

After ten minutes of stories and chit-chat, they hung up with the reminder of tomorrow's group lunch.

* * *

**2:01 PM**

**[Guido Mista]:** Hey sorry for the late message but I just woke up,_ buongiorno_, Giorno!

**2:05 PM**

**[Giorno Jstar]:** _Buonasera_, Mista :) What are your plans today?

* * *

Mista let himself laugh at Giorno's rebuttal and quickly remembers that today was allowance day.

* * *

**[Guido Mista]:** I'm going to visit my parents before school starts up again! Hbu?

**[Giorno Jstar]:** That's very sweet of you, I'm just visiting a few universities to narrow my options down when it comes time to apply.

**[Guido Mista]:** That must be tiring, especially if theyre spaced out. Btw do you remember a guy called Bucciarati? He met you like at the beginning of summer Tonio's?

**[Giorno Jstar]:** I believe so, black bobbed hair and blue eyes? Do you know that man?

**[Guido Mista]:** Yea he's one of my best friends! Anyway he was wanting to reconnect with you since yall didn't exchange numbers before he went off on vacation, do you want his number?

**[Giorno Jstar]:** Hang on brb srry

**[Guido Mista]:** u good tyt

**3:00 PM**

**[Giorno Jstar]**: I'm really sorry, one of the tour guides walking around came up and started talking to me about the university.

**[Giorno Jstar]:** Also, sure! He was very nice.

**[Guido Mista]:** No biggie~ Those things happen, 580-***-**** , I'm at my parent's door now tho so ttyl! :DD

**[Giorno Jstar]:** Thank you, Mista, have fun :)

* * *

With a pause, Mista pulls his phone back out.

* * *

** 3:03 PM**

**[asshole bff]:** send me four messages again n see what happens hoe


	5. Gang Gang

The gang finally settled in at Trattoria Trussardi's for their long overdue meetup, had already drunk the water, and just received their food- so Mista knew it was finally time to ask the question on his mind,

"So, you know how you always feel really fresh after crying? Like, you cry because you're sad or angry and, after that and a nap, you feel so much better… anyway, if you were to cry once a day, would the benefits outweigh any negative side effects from it?"

Abbacchio, the first to recover from his tears after Bucciarati and Mista, let himself finish wiping his eyes and replied,

"Well, if you block out a specific time and stick with it, I don't see the issue; it's usually done to relieve stress and enhance your mood, after all. Once a day is probably too much, though, even if you could just cry on command."

"Then how often do you think would work? Once a week or month?"

Abbacchio's lips purse in thought, "Unless you have a really horrible life or something, once a month would most likely be best?"

This is why Mista loves talking to the group about these things, specifically Abbacchio; if he's not too grossed out and brushes him off, he'll give an honest and thought-out answer.

"That's true, but the ones who need to cry once a week, or even day, must be realllly depressed then…"

"Crying's horrible, who would wanna do it any more than they gotta?" Narancia chimes in, voice rough with a few rouge tears still spilling.

"You only say that because you already cry once a week." Fugo retorts.

"Uhm, actually, first of all, it's closer to once every two weeks, get the facts straight-"

"I do, I've kept track, it's definitely once a week." Fugo interrupts and rests his head on his hand.

Narancia's eyes narrow, but Abbacchio interrupts before he can start a fight, "That just means Narancia feels things more intensely and can express them,"

Abbacchio takes a bite of his salmon as he thinks, _Better than holding everything in and exploding over random ass things, at least you know what Narancia's pissed about immediately…_ but is smart enough to not say it aloud.

Mista thinks for a moment before replying, "Haha, doesn't that mean emotionally repressed people would feel a lot better if they cried more?"

Fugo sighs, "Going to actual therapy would help much more than just interval crying."

Narancia mockingly blows a raspberry, "As if everybody has the extra money for that shit, it's crazy expensive!"

"See, that's the thing- crying's a real money saving technique! A blessing for the working-class family!" Mista says, conversation fading so they can enjoy lunch.

However, halfway through, Abbacchio suddenly asks,

"Hey Bucciarati?" He waits for Bucciarati to finish his bite and look at him before he continues, "Weren't you going to show us the pictures you took?"

Bucciarati blinks, "Ah, that's right, I had almost forgotten. I'll show you guys after we finish and the plates are taken; I wouldn't want anything to happen to them."

"Sounds good."

* * *

As Mista had expected, everybody enjoyed their lunch. Bucciarati's photos were all high-quality and picture perfect. Most were individual shots of either Bucciarati or his father during one of their activities, but a few featured them both; one had them smiling as they leaned against each other next to rows of identical, oddly-shaped metal figures.

Pointing at it, Fugo asks, "What's that one?"

Bucciarati's visage softens as he pulls the card out of the scrapbook to read the back, "'Black & Blue: The Invisible Man and the Masque of Blackness' It's a constantly relocating art piece by Zak Ove, with 40 total matching pieces, that's made and named after an influential British play on racism. We found it while at the Yorkshire Sculpture Park in Britain."

"It's really mysterious looking." Mista comments.

"Looks like they weigh a ton." Narancia adds.

Abbacchio lets out a quiet, half-whistle, "You sure found a lot of interesting stuff in Britain, Bucciarati."

"Yes, that piano player that we mentioned in the group chat, Giorno, actually told me about most of them."

That got Mista's attention, and he quickly asks, "Giorno did?!"

"Mm, while we were talking about the differences between Italy and Britain, I mentioned I was stopping by Britain for a week, and Giorno told me of a few really good places to visit and eat at."

Mista hums in reply, then remembers, "Oh yea, did Giorno end up messaging you? I gave him your number, but I never asked him if he messaged you."

"Yes! Thank you again, Mista. I actually asked him if he would like to come by for lunch and meet everybody, but he said he was on his way to Florence with his dad for something."

_Oh, right_, Mista's mind flashes back to Giorno texting him a few hours ago that his father suddenly had to go to Florence to clear up a few details on a case he was working and insisted Giorno go with him. Giorno himself insisted to Mista he would be back by tomorrow afternoon to see him.

Mista sighs in disappointment, "That's too bad."

Fugo glances over at Mista, then to Bucciarati, "I've been wondering about this- is this Giorno guy really pretty enough that it warrants Mista suddenly realizing he's bisexual?"

Narancia laughs, Bucciarati's eyes widen as he stills, like he's not sure what to say, and Mista chokes on his spit. Bucciarati lets out a breath after a few seconds of thinking,

"Maybe? I mean, objectively, he's a very good-looking man and easy to get along with, so I understand what Mista sees in him."

Mista's not sure if he's more relieved or jealous that Bucciarati just acknowledged Giorno's attractiveness in front of the group.

Mista glances over to catch Abbacchio looking at Bucciarati, mouth a flat line with his eyebrows creased in thought. _That can't be good._ Mista's style is to let things he doesn't like go, or deal with them immediately, but Abbacchio is spiteful despite the calm front he pulls.

Fugo blinks as he processes Bucciarati's answer, "Okay."

"Can we just go shopping already?" Mista finds himself saying.

* * *

The rest of the day goes by much smoother, they split up at the mall to get clothes and supplies for school; Abbacchio and Bucciarati on their own, Mista and Narancia originally with Fugo, but Fugo finishes first and branches off to go to the bookstore. Eventually they all part and Mista arrives home to spend the rest of the day, and some of the night, planning his date with Giorno. Many of his first options aren't viable, either due to distance or an insane cost, so it takes quite some time to work it out.

By 2AM, it's as perfect as it'll get, and he really needs to get his beauty sleep, but because he's so on-edge, Mista has to take a few melatonin gummies before he can drift off.

* * *

**2:55 PM**

**[Giorno Jstar]:** That sounds good, I just got back from Florence a little while ago. I was wanting to confirm that we were still on for five o'clock in front of stop 7?

**[Guido Mista]:** welcome back to naples! yes! I'll be there in a yellow fiat 500 :D

**[Giorno Jstar]:** Thank you very much :) I'll see you there.

**[Guido Mista]:** yea!

* * *

Mista doesn't really like to drive his car and prefers to take the bus; gas is much more expensive than the bus fee and he can doze off or read, but he's not about to deal with bus times and crowds when he's in the process of wooing a literal Adonis.

Mista had offered to pick Giorno up at his house, but Giorno was firm that it would be better to pick him up at the stop near his house; which suits Mista just fine, he wants Giorno to feel comfortable with him.

Mista takes his time getting ready as he reflects on Giorno. He can feel himself vibrating in excitement and nervousness. This is his one chance to shoot his shot before school starts. It was perfect three days ago, so he hopes the atmosphere doesn't change; he really doesn't want to make it awkward.

As he drives over, gradually becoming more comfortable behind the wheel, he watches the scenery change from city sidewalks to grassy terrain. The drive is only 10 minutes, but it's as if he'd teleported to a scenic farmland.

_Does Giorno live in the countryside…? That's actually kinda romantic: naples city boy meets a country boy, who just moved from a foreign country, they meet under romantic circumstances and make it work in a cruel world, which… sounds like the plot of a $2 paperback novel middle-aged ladies buy at a gas station that has way too many badly written sex scenes-_

Mista's face flushes. He tries to clear his mind for a few minutes and feels relief when he finally sees the letter '7' on a (very randomly placed) bus stop. Mista spots Giorno's crossed legs, consisting of his usual navy slacks and green heeled loafers, peeking out from the stop's weather protected bench.

For a brief, tempting second, he considers putting his sunglasses on, honking, and saying, _"Get in, loser, we're going on a date."_ before realizing every single step of that would be a horrible idea.

Giorno is already standing at the curb by the time Mista stops, hands in his slacks and casual expression on his face.

"Giorno, hello! Did you wait long?" Mista asks as Giorno gets in.

Giorno adjusts himself inside the car and puts his seatbelt on as he replies, voice even but pleased, "No, I actually only arrived a few minutes ago. You found this stop very quickly, Mista."

Mista loves the way Giorno says his name. He missed Giorno and his golden presence.

"GPS is a magical thing," Mista begins driving while he talks, "This place is so beautiful, you live in the countryside here?"

"Yes, my house is only a few minutes' walk from the bus stop. It's very quiet and peaceful out here… I'll miss the location, at the very least, once the weekend starts."

"What's gonna happen when the weekend comes?" Mista asks, confused.

Giorno pauses for a few seconds before answering, "W.A. Zeppeli High is a boarding school, so I have to pack and move in over the weekend."

Mista… should have known that, considering he's lived in Naples, what, his whole life? And as close to the school as he does?

"Oh yeah! I have no idea how I forgot that!"

Mista feels Giorno staring at him, but he's driving and nervous, so he doesn't look to see what kind of face he's making.

"It's okay. That can happen to all of us." Giorno's tone is soft, assuring him that he doesn't think he's stupid.

"Y-Yea, do you have a roommate?" Mista needs to pull himself together.

"No, apparently last year they adjusted the dorms so that each student receives their own room, and I prefer to have my own space."

"Hmmm, that makes sense, I wouldn't wanna room with some rando either…" Mista trails off as he makes a few turns, composing himself.

A few minutes later he hears a quiet, "Mista."

"Yeah?"

"What's the plan for tonight?"

"I don't want to spoil too much, but I will say it's dinner, an activity, and one final thing."

"That sounds lovely."


	6. Last Supper

Mista parks in the lot behind the restaurant he chose, La Squadra, and gets out. He thinks of going to Giorno's side to escort him out, but Giorno's out just as fast as Mista, tucking a stray wisp of hair behind his ear.

Mista looks over Giorno, immaculate as the day he first saw him, and meets his eyes. Mista turns red around the edges into his ears and Giorno's mouth flutters into a polite smile. They walk beside each other inside, with Mista keeping close, but not too close. Giorno, for his part, doesn't seem to mind the near proximity.

Inside is the darkest restaurant Mista has ever seen, illuminated by hanging faded yellow orb lights, with white-clothed tables all around. Luckily, each occupied table has a candle lit in the middle. As they wait at the 'Please Wait to be Seated' chalkboard sign, that's framed by yellow Christmas lights, Mista mentally panics.

_Google said this restaurant was only one dollar sign, but it's looking like three dollar signs in this bitch... Well, I guess since we're already here, ramen for half the month probably won't kill me._

Giorno's looking around with a slight sparkle in his eyes that Mista hasn't seen before, so it's already worth the upcoming ramen hell.

A unique-looking man with spiked green hair rushes from the back with a water pitcher, "Hey! Sorry about the wait, crazy back there, right this way!"

He leads them to a table and carefully, if somewhat nervously, lights the candle as they sit down. He then flips the cups over and fills them. Mista loves Tonio's, but he's very excited to finally have a menu he can choose his own destiny (meal) from in his hands.

"Your s-server will be over in a few minutes to properly take your food and drink orders."

Giorno replies, "Thank you."

He hurries away to seat another couple.

Mista looks at the menu's prices in dreadful anticipation, only to have a sense of peace wash over him, the prices aren't bad at all. Fate really was on his side.

Mista studies the menu and within minutes decides on having _trippa alla fiorentina_; he loves tripe and it's been awhile since he's last had it. He glimpses at Giorno, who seems to be invested in reading something. After half a minute, Giorno closes his menu, and Mista takes the chance to ask,

"Did you decide on something?"

"Yes, I'd like to try their octopus salad."

"Ah." _That's like the cheapest thing on the menu… is he trying to lessen his cost?_

With some visible hesitation, Mista says, "Just throwing this out here, but it's ok to get whatever you want. I want to treat you, y'know?"

Giorno's head turns to Mista, eyes confused, "…?" He blinks in realization, "Oh! No, I assure you that I didn't factor cost in when picking it. I genuinely like to eat octopus salad when given the chance."

_Oh boy howdy do I feel stupid, I shouldn't have said anything_, Mista lets out a noise in confirmation and brushes it off, "Just making sure… did you decide on anything to drink? Maybe a glass of Bellini? I'm driving, so I won't, but…" He trails off.

Giorno's eyes and lips light up in amusement, "Mmm, I would, but it's not really an option."

_Not an option? How would- the legal drinking age is only 16… unless, is he 15 and just some kid genius who breezes through compulsory school? Shit._

At Mista's muddled expression, Giorno continues, "They don't serve alcohol at this restaurant, they give quite a heartfelt explanation on the back of the menu." His eyebrows raise with a head tilt, urging Mista to turn to the menu's last page, which he does.

In small writing under the drinks section, it reads,

_'This establishment is 100% alcohol-free. It may seem impossible for any Italian restaurant to run without alcohol, but it is in honor of our owner, Risotto Nero's, deceased cousin who was tragically killed by a drunk driver in the year 2007. This is to encourage safer drinking practices and prevent another tragedy from occurring to another family and is, in no way, an attack on responsible alcohol consumers. Thank you for your time and understanding. -P'_

A breath escapes Mista, "Whoa, that's like… really intense."

"Mmm, it's quite impressive that they're trying to make even a small change for something they believe in, despite the Italian wine culture. I bet they have lost quite a bit of business from this."

Mista hums as he thinks, "You're right. It does seem insane for an Italian restaurant to have zero alcoholic options, definitely a ballsy move, but drunk drivers can honestly eat lead. I've almost been hit a ton of times by zig-zaggy driving idiots who just giggle like almost murdering me was the high point of their day!"

Giorno's eyes narrow and his mouth goes into a flat scowl, "What horrible people. That's unforgivable."

His tone is lower, harder, and more to-the-point blunt than usual, which surprises Mista for a second. _Giorno is definitely somebody whose bad side you don't want to get on._ It's actually pretty hot.

A tired-looking blond stops by their table, "Hello, I'm your waiter, name's Prosciutto. Sorry about the wait, had to take care of someone in the back."

_Someone?_ "Don't you mean 'something'?"

"Sure. Do you know what you want, or do you need a few more minutes?"

"…No, I think we're ready. I want _trippa alla fiorentina_ and a basil lemonade, he wants an octopus salad and…"

"A _Caffé Americano_, please." Giorno finishes.

Prosciutto finishes writing in his notepad and leaves with a, "Sure, be right out."

Mista realizes in the pause of chatter that there's music in the restaurant. As Mista focuses in on the soft piano music faintly playing over the speakers, he notices Giorno's right hand gently tapping in rhythm to it, eyes closed in relaxation.

He's transfixed on the sight and waits until the song ends to ask, in almost a whisper, "So, Giorno, how long have you been playing the piano?"

Giorno's shoulders jump in surprise and a faint red tint explodes on his face, embarrassed. Mista realizes it's the first time he's seen Giorno blush.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to zone out like that, I just recognized the piece and got carried away."

A delighted smirk emerges on Mista's face.

He puts an elbow on the table, hand cradling his own cheek, as he leans in towards Giorno, "It's fine, it was amusing to watch."

Giorno's face reddens a little bit more, "Oh." Mista watches Giorno's hand swipe across his forehead while he simultaneously takes a small breath, and his face is back to normal, as if nothing had happened. Huh, that's new.

"I've been playing the piano since I was eight years old. Before that, I had tried a few different instruments, but the piano is the only one that I've kept with."

Mista lets his hand, and head, tilt in interest, "Is there anything that was special about the piano, or did it just happen?"

Giorno takes a small sip of water before replying, "Both. The piano was the one I just happened to be the best at, however, it's also a preferred way for me to channel my thoughts and meditate."

Mista doesn't stop to think before he says, "Haha, that makes sense. Does that mean when you're in a bad mood you play some really pissed off, dark music that sounds like the summoning of Satan?!"

Giorno takes a second to process the question, "… Yes, actually."

Mista's face explodes in an odd pleasure at the thought of Giorno getting pissed off, not saying a single thing until he gets home, only to play hours of villain music, "That's so cool! It must sound like a metal rave, considering how good you are."

Giorno finds himself smiling back at Mista as he thinks, _Mista's smile is infectious_, "Thank you… do you play an instrument, Mista?"

Mista waves his free hand, "Nah. But when I heard you play, Giorno, I seriously considered trying out every instrument, hoping to get on your level."

"That's very ambitious of you."

"You think so?"

"Yes."

A few more minutes of conversation pass before Prosciutto gracefully brings out their entire dinner on a large, silver-black platter, carefully organizing it onto the table. Mista takes a sip of his lemonade, it's amazing.

"Enjoy, please press the button on the side if you need anything else."

"Of course."

Everything goes fine until Giorno touches his coffee. Mista watches in slow horror as Giorno puts in one, two, three, and then four sugar packets into his coffee. Mista, ever patient, gives Giorno a minute to add another. He doesn't. Mista's face turns pale. He can't help it, he has to stop this and save Giorno from himself,

"Please put another packet of sugar in your coffee, you have to, I beg you."

Giorno looks up at Mista, "Why?"

"You put four in! I know it sounds weird, but that number is seriously bad luck, I really don't want you to die."

Giorno, the actual saint of patience, replies, "How is the number four bad luck?"

Mista goes on to tell Giorno the harrowing story of the neighborhood's cursed fourth cat and how all things related to four only bring bad luck, finishing with him repeating, "Listen, I know it sounds weird, but I like to live a chill, stress-free life, and that includes eliminating the number four from said happy life."

At this point Mista honestly expects Giorno to either think he's nuts and find a way to leave early, or mentally clock out until the evening is over and then ghost him.

Instead, Giorno picks up a fifth sugar packet with an impish smile,

"I'll try to avoid the number four, then."


End file.
